


Sustain

by unsettled



Series: Balance [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man II, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM Scene, Could be read as ship or gen, Cuddling, Flogging, Iron Man 2, Kinktober, M/M, POV Phil Coulson, Service Top, Subspace, care and feeding of Tony Stark, maybe i should just tag this ooc?, non-sexual bdsm, overly vulnerable tony, possibly overly nice phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27094891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: Phil is willing to do a lot to keep Tony Stark on premises; this wasn’t something he was expecting, but he can handle it."If it helps," Phil tries, "you could always threaten me with something dire if I hurt you."Stark laughs, a sharp, harsh bark. "I don't give a shit if you wind up hurting me," he says. "At this rate I'm going to be dead by the end of the month; what am I supposed to do to you then?"
Relationships: Phil Coulson & Tony Stark, Phil Coulson/Tony Stark
Series: Balance [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080113
Comments: 16
Kudos: 93
Collections: Unsettled's Kinktober 2020





	Sustain

**Author's Note:**

> This got completely out of control and not where I originally intended it to go, so... I guess I just really wanted to see IM2 Tony being taken care of for once?

He'd known from the start that Stark was going to be a handful. It's not a surprise— anyone could have known that.

He just hadn't expected it to go to pieces so quickly. Stark disappeared for a few hours, still in the house, of course, and reappears looking even worse, strung out and jittery. Exhausted. "Have to go do a thing," he says. "Have fun; I'd say don't burn down the house but it's a little late, isn't it."

"You don't have to go do anything," Phil tells him. "I’m not going to fetch you coffee, but I can provide whatever you actually need to get this done."

"Nope," Stark says, obnoxiously popping the p. "Not a chance, Agent."

"At least I can say I warned you when you're twitching on the floor," Phil says, and he probably shouldn't be looking forward to tasing Stark so much.

Stark rolls his eyes; Phil should have remembered threats just aren’t effective on him. "Listen," he says. "Sure, you can hit me with whatever little toy you're carrying around, but we both know it's not going to keep me down for more than five minutes. So let's stop playing games; you go on your way, I go on mine. Message has already been delivered."

"What do you need, Stark? You're not going anywhere, and yes, it can keep you down for more than five minutes. You're not exactly in top form."

Goading is a bad idea, he knows it's a bad idea. Stark narrows his eyes and Phil can see the instant he decides to be an ass about this, to see if he can ruffle Phil. Good luck. Better men have tried.

"I need a good fuck," Stark says, smirking. "Helps me think and you need me thinking, right?"

"Alright," Phil says. "What exactly are we talking about here? If I'm not your type, I'm sure we can find one of my team that is."

Oh, that gets him. "I— what?" Stark says. "Seriously? Just to keep me from getting out of here?"

"I did say that I could provide anything you needed." Stark’s an ass, but from what Phil’s heard, it's not like it would a chore to have sex with him. Probably.

Stark stares at him a moment, but he doesn't back down. He never does. "And if I needed something else?" he says. "What if I, say, wanted to hurt someone?"

"You'd have fewer options to choose from," Phil says. "You seem to be having trouble with the definition of anything."

"Ha ha," Stark says, "you're not having trouble with any of this. What if I wanted it the other way around? Is that really something you'd even have the skill to 'provide'?"

That's... unexpected. "Actually, the answer is still yes," Phil tells him. "I'll need a little more information from you beforehand though."

"Are you fucking—" Stark shakes his head. "Incredible. The lengths you'll go to just to get me to— you know what? Fine. Fine! Come on," and he turns, nearly stomping off like a child. Phil follows.

The house isn't a complete disaster once they're on the lower levels; Stark leads him to a bedroom, through it to a smaller room. "Here," he says, gesturing at a cabinet. "Pick something out, I'm sure you'll get the idea." He grabs a chair and hauls it over to the center of the room while Phil uncovers a nice collection of floggers, crops, paddles. Stark's serious.

"You don't have a preference?" Phil asks.

"I don't own anything I don't like," Stark says. "As long as you know how to use it, any of them will get the job done." That's... interesting phrasing. Definitely not any sort of aroused, not like Phil had expected.

"And what is the job, then?"

Stark glares at him for a minute, his jaw clenching. "The pain helps," he says, finally. "It clears my mind of the distractions. Lets me think things through without having to think about them sometimes," which must make sense in Stark's head.

Phil runs his hands over a thick, dark red flogger, of incredibly soft leather. "I'm surprised," he says, and ignores Stark's little 'ha!'. "I would have thought you'd had more than enough pain, not that you'd want more."

"It's not—" Stark sighs. "Fuck," he mutters. "Why did I think this might work? I don't trust you a bit, this is pointless."

"If you didn't trust me at all," Phil says, "I wouldn't have made it this far." Stark just stares at him, frozen, indecisive. "If it helps," Phil tries, "you could always threaten me with something dire if I hurt you."

Stark laughs, a sharp, harsh bark. "I don't give a shit if you wind up hurting me," he says. "At this rate I'm going to be dead by the end of the month; what am I supposed to do to you then?"

He won't be. Phil doesn't know what Nick has up his sleeve, but he's certain there's something; he's not going to just let Tony Stark die. But Stark sure seems to believe what he's saying. "If you don't care about that," he says, "then what is it?"

"This isn't— goddamnit. You know what this is," he says, tapping the reactor. Phil nods. "And you know it's killing me. So maybe you can figure out from those facts that I am already hurting, all the time. Drugs barely touch it anymore, and they screw with my head anyway. This…” Stark sighs. “Sometimes, this helps. It's like— an overload of my system. It can trip a breaker, and then when I reset, the pain isn't gone but my threshold for it is higher. It's easier to deal with for a while. When it works, that is, and that's what I'm worried about. Because if it doesn't work, all I'm left with is more pain."

"I understand," Phil says, and he does, actually. Stark's looking for that rush, looking to sink into subspace, a little break from the world. He really wonders who's done this to him before, who made him think it had to be as hard as that. "I can get you there," he tells Stark. "The fact that it's a physical need makes it simpler; as long as you trust that I don't want to damage you, that's all you should need. If you needed to submit, it'd be a problem, but this? This is doable."

Stark's giving him an odd look. "Huh," he says after a moment. "I guess you really have done this before." Phil refrains from rolling his eyes, but it takes an actual effort. "Alright," Tony says. "Fuck it. Let's do this." He yanks his shirt up, over his head, and— 

And it's a shock. It's slightly awful, honestly. The scarring around the reactor is extensive and the dark lines spreading out from it are disturbing. Stark looks awful entirely aside from that; he has any number of bruises, no doubt from any of the fights over the past few days, and while it hadn't been as obvious under clothes, Stark's lost weight, his spine sharper than it should be when he turns and sits down on the chair. Backward, his arms folded on top of the back, head ducked down. It's unusual.

"Is there a reason for that?" Phil says, taking the dark red flogger and a shorter, fuller one from the cabinet. He pulls off his suit jacket and sets it aside, loosening his tie.

"Can't lie on my chest for too long without it getting really painful," Stark says. "If I get where I want to be, I'd have trouble staying on my feet, and I— I can't handle being bound to keep me up." His shoulders are tense, his whole body stiff.

"Understandable," Phil says, quietly. "Colors work for you?"

"Yeah, fine," Stark says. "I seriously doubt you'll get me anywhere close to a yellow, much less red, but whatever." He shivers, faintly, when Phil sets his hand at the top of his spine; Phil leaves it there until Stark's skin is warm under his hand, until Stark shifts, his head dipping a little more. Maybe there is a little hint of submission in there after all.

"Uh," Stark says, a softer tone than Phil's ever heard from him. "I— I like the blue one a lot."

It might be a test, it might not, but in the end it doesn't really matter. Right now, he's offering Stark a service; he goes and gets the blue one too. It's thicker, coarser, not something he’d start off with.

Stark's a quiet one. He jerks at each strike, and he's not silent; Phil still hears gasps and soft little wordless noises, constantly, but he's far from loud. He's not showy about it, the way he is about everything else. Phil wonders, a little, if it's an act, if Stark is holding back. If he'll lose that control when Phil pushes him further, beyond where he can keep that sort of lie going.

Maybe it's not the one that's an act.

Stark does like it, though, his head dropping down onto his folded arms and the tension fading from his body. Replaced by a different kind, sure, but not that anxious, unhappy strain from before. Phil waits until he's relaxed enough to slide down further in the chair, until Stark is shuddering at the lightest of blows. Drags one soft, low moan out of him before Phil switches things up.

The first strike of the blue flogger has Stark's head jerking up, his whole body tense in response. "Oh,  _ fuck,"  _ Stark says, shakily. It looks like a good response, but Phil gives him a moment anyway. Waits, while Stark hunches in, stealing himself against the next blow; when it doesn't come, he turns his head, just enough to glance at Phil over his shoulder. "Like that," he says. "Just like that."

Good enough for Phil.

Stark's a little louder with it, startled with every hit at first, his noises sharper, more guttural. A little bit, for a little while, and then they start to die out. All Stark's noises disappear after a while, nothing more than soft panting, and that's not really what Phil had expected. "Stark," he says, and when he doesn't get a response, he steps up to Stark's side. "Stark," he tries again, "look at me."

There's not even a tremor of movement; Phil gets a grip in Stark's hair and pulls his head up, tilting his face towards Phil’s.

Stark blinks at him, slow, his mouth lax. Just hangs from Phil's grip and doesn't react at all for a moment, and damn, Phil hadn't thought Stark would fall into this so easily. "Sorry, what?" Stark says, his consonants soft, almost slurred. He shakes his head slightly, blinking faster, dragging himself up out of that liminal state.

"Nothing," Phil says quickly. "Nothing at all. You can stay just like that, it's good." He lowers Stark's head back down, resting on his arms, and loosens his hand, turning his touch into more of a pet. "You're doing beautifully." Stark stares up at him, not as distant as he had been but not quite focused either. He hesitates, caught in place, and then shivers, turning his face into his arms, hiding. "Don't worry," Phil says. "I'll put you back there."

He's got a handle on what Stark needs, now, what to watch for. That little interaction had pulled Stark up enough that he's startling at each blow again, even if he's still quiet; Phil keeps at him. Switches over to the softer, thuddier one for a bit, the first hit with that drawing a whine out of Stark. He melts when Phil keeps using it, though, sinking further down, burrowed in his arms and barely moving, just absorbing it all.

That's good, and Phil's sure that has Stark at least drifting but it's not what he'd asked for.

Stark cries out when Phil brings back the blue one, loud, real pain, his whole body tensing and his head coming up. Phil gives him a moment, waits until Stark puts his head back down, his shoulders tensing as he holds his position. It's only going to make it hurt more, and the harsh noises Stark is making prove it. Stark stiffens up, tenser and tenser as it goes on, and then— 

Gives in.

His shoulders drop, and he rocks with the next blow instead of flinching. Gets quieter and quieter again, calmer and calmer. Phil waits, keeping at him, watching for that last bit, that last edge of resistance to disappear. Phil's arm is actually starting to ache a little when it comes, when Stark sags, lax like he'd been with the softer flogger. Stays like that through the next few strikes, and that's where Stark needed to be. That's where he should stay for a while, if Phil's careful with him.

He sets the floggers aside and goes to Stark, crouching down beside him. Puts his hand on Stark's shoulder, the heat of it incredible, and Stark doesn't even shiver. "Okay?" Phil says, softly. He gets a small affirmative noise, a little more than he'd expected, actually.

Stark sighs when Phil runs his hand over his shoulders, very lightly across all that reddened skin. Stays just as calm and pliant as Phil keeps touching him, slowly stroking his back.

He doesn't really want them to stay here, though. Eventually—if it hasn't already—that chair is going to be uncomfortable, and Phil doesn't exactly want to crouch like this for long. "Can I get you to the bed?" he asks.

There's another little noise, with an equally little nod this time, and then Stark is pushing himself up. Phil rises, startled, ready to catch him if he's as unsteady as he looks, but it's unnecessary; Stark's unfocused, wobbly, but perfectly able to stand and walk to the bed in the other room. Phil keeps a hand on his arm regardless.

Stark sits on the bed, and then seems to get lost, or distracted, not moving again until Phil pushes him gently towards the middle of the bed. He gets Stark curled up on his side, just a sliver of his back touching the sheets.

There's a chair against the wall that doesn't look too modern, so hopefully more comfortable than most of the monstrosities around here; Phil has a feeling he's going to be here a while, watching Stark come back up. He stands, about to walk away when there's a soft touch on his hand. He looks down.

Stark's arm is stretched out, his fingers just barely resting on the back of Phil's hand. He's looking up at Phil out of the corner of his eyes, head just barely turned towards him. It's a clear a request as anything spoken; stay.

"I'm not leaving," Phil tells him. "I'm not even leaving the room. I was just going to get a chair.'

There's a breath, a hesitation, Stark's hand not leaving his, and then it's gone, Stark dragging it back in, turning his face into the pillow. That was the wrong response, something about it was just... wrong.

"Stark," Phil says, leaning onto the bed. "Do you want me to stay here? On the bed? I wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with that." After all, this doesn't seem to be at all sexual for him.

Stark doesn't say anything—Phil's not entirely sure if he's nonverbal or not—but he turns his face back towards Phil a little. Doesn't quite look at him, and doesn't make a move; he's not going to ask again, not after what he obviously took as a rejection. His reactions are odd, not much like Phil had expected. Maybe it's just the subspace, but— Phil's found even that sort of personality shift has roots in something underlying.

"Alright," Phil says, and lies down next to Stark, facing him. Not quite touching, but close. He's not entirely sure what sort of thing Stark needs from him right now, and Stark's not giving him a lot to work with. Stark reaches forward, catching the end of Phil's tie; he'd unknotted it earlier but left it tucked in the collar of his shirt. Rubs it between his thumb and fingers, slowly. Tactile, Phil thinks, and he'd thought, with the way Stark fends people off, subtly and not so, that he wouldn't want that.

"You're not bad at that," Stark says, a little soft around the edges but perfectly understandable, much more coherent than Phil had expected. "Get lots of practice?"

"Thank you," Phil says. "Not really, not for a while. I don't have the time to go out."

"Yeah," Stark says, "Fury seems to be trying to run you ragged. Bouncing you here and there. What short straw did you pull that you keep getting me?"

"I don't think of it as a short straw," Phil tells him. "More a challenge, and I enjoy getting to stretch myself." That gets him a huff of laughter. He reaches out and catches Stark's chin, raising it enough Stark has to look at him.

He's still as unfocused and dazed looking as before, the same slow sweep of his eyelashes, the same easy movement as Phil touches him. "Are you normally this... active?"

"Mmm," Stark says. "I've never been the sort to shut up for long, I guess."

"That wasn't what I asked," Phil says, going quieter as he lets his tone firm up.

Stark's fingers still on Phil's tie, his eyes closing briefly. "Yes," he says. "I get chatty when I'm under, a little too chatty. I'll get quiet again in a while, stay like that until the wind up hits me."

There's definitely a submissive streak in there, even if Stark isn't willing to acknowledge it. "Wind up?"

"Everything coming back online," Stark says softly. "Reboot complete, and I'll be bursting with energy for... hours, maybe a day or two before I crash."

Crash, or drop, Phil wonders. "Is it inevitable?"

"Don't know," Stark says. "Not enough data." He goes quiet, but he's playing with Phil's tie again. Has shifted a little closer as well, his knees bumping into Phil's.

Tactile, he thinks again.

Stark moves, his head coming up until he's almost looking at Phil— is, but it's more looking through him, Stark's expression starting to go sharper, his forehead creasing. He looks at Phil for real then, meeting his eyes. Stares, for a moment, almost focused; that quietness is sliding away, leaving him looking exhausted, bruised around the eyes. And then he just— goes soft again, his gaze sliding away for a few seconds before he looks back, hard, a tic in his jaw.

He's trying to pull himself out of it, Phil realizes. It's obvious that he wants to stay there, but he's not allowing himself. Even though that was the whole point. "You don't have to do that," Phil says. "There's no rush, no schedule to keep to."

"Sure there is," Stark mutters.

"No," Phil says, and if he needs to he'll make it true. "Nothing that can't be rearranged. Don't fight it so hard, Stark."

Starks making twitchy, restless little movements, and fuck, it might be the wrong move, might yank Stark straight out of it, but it feels like Phil has to try. He puts his hand on Stark's arm, gets a good grip and rolls onto his back, pulling Stark with him.

There's a tense moment once Stark is snugged close against him, leg draped over Phil's, arm over his chest, Phil still holding onto it. Stark's head is up, staring at him. "You have nowhere else you need to be," Phil says. "Nothing else you should be doing, right this moment. I know; I'm the one making your schedule for now. Take it, Tony. I won't let it be interrupted."

For another few seconds, Phil thinks he might have made the wrong choice, that the way Stark ducks away from uninitiated contact is a truth, not a cover up. That Stark won't be able to fall back down, or trust Phil beyond the scene.

Stark shivers, and between one breath and the next, goes limp. Melts against Phil easily, leaning into that contact he obviously needs. Phil turns his head until he can see Stark's face, resting on Phil's arm and turned up. His eyes are closed, but all those little lines of tension have disappeared again. "There you go," Phil says softly. "Just like that; that's perfect." Stark shivers again, his eyes opening, and he's right back where he should be.

Phil's going to keep him there as long as he can.

He thinks, while Stark settles, watching Phil through half closed eyes. Thinks, Stark's fingers absently tapping against Phil's chest, erratic little touches. He doesn't know quite what to do with this new information, not yet. It's not something he'd expected, at all, and it runs completely counter to a few things he'd thought were solid facts. Phil considers himself an excellent judge of people, considers Natasha to be even better, and they've both misread this. They've both completely missed huge pieces of Stark's personality, and it's a little embarrassing to think they were taken in by Stark, fooled by the face he puts on for the world.

Stark's quiet, still aside from his fingers. His eyes are almost closed, lashes dark against his cheeks, ridiculously long. He shivers ever so faintly when Phil runs his hand over his back, still hot to the touch, and lets out a shaky little exhale. Phil never would have called it, but he's willing to bet Stark would be the sweetest sort of submissive, if he went down for something other than pain. "Tired?" he asks.

"Always," Stark says with a small smile, a soft thing Phil's never seen before. "Not sleepy though."

"How do you feel?"

"Better," Stark says. "Good. Really good. You did really... made it easy? Not hard? Not falling, sliding."

Definitely out of it again, Phil thinks, a little amused. Stark stumbles around what he's trying to say constantly, but not like this, not like he can't quite figure out words. "Just wanted to make sure we did get you where you needed to be," he says.

"Oh god, yes," Stark says. "I didn’t think it was going to work with you at all, but it was fast." He laughs, and it’s an actual laugh this time, low and satisfied. "It’s so  _ quiet," _ he says, which Phil is going to take as a good thing even if he isn’t sure what Stark means by it.

He's quiet a while longer, and really, Phil could do with this downtime as well. Nick has been trying to have him everywhere, keeping tabs on everything. "You think Fury knows?" Stark says, distantly.

"Knows what?"

"What the answer is. Whatever the solution to this is," he says, flicking his fingers at the reactor. "Is he missing a piece he needs me to find, or is he just getting off watching me like a rat in a maze."

"I think I can say I'm sure he's not enjoying it," Phil says. Personally, he thinks Nick has a solution and just isn't happy with it, wants to see if Stark can come up with something better. And give himself some leverage if he gets to swoop in and save Stark at the end of the day.

Then again, Nick's not normally as hands on anymore for individuals. He's hard to read, but Phil's pretty sure his lack of surprise about Iron Man wasn't entirely a front; he'd already been keeping a closer eye on Stark.

"Don't know if I believe you," Stark mutters. "Sure looked like he was enjoying watching Natasha stab me."

"He might have enjoyed that," Phil admits.

"Knew it," Stark says. He seems to run down after that, going quiet again, still, not even his fingers tapping.

"I take it the box wasn't terribly helpful?" Phil asks after a bit. Something about it set Stark off, at least.

Stark sighs. "Just— junk. Not even half finished bits of things, home movies, bragging about the expo." He huffs. "Leaving messages for me, like hearing that stuff now is going to help. It would have meant something back then. He didn't build the stupid thing for me, he built it—"

Stark stiffens, his eyes going wide, snapping out of that quiet space in an instant. "Son of a bitch," he says. Scrambles up, yanking open a drawer. "I need—" he says, his words lost for a second as he pulls a shirt on. "Send someone to go find the original expo model and get it here."

"What?"

"The— the model, the thingy, you know," Stark says, keyed up. He waves his hands around. "The one from the video, there's something in it, something— he hid it, whatever it is. I need the actual thing, now."

"Alright," Phil says. "I'll get it here.

Stark pauses, glancing over at him. "Yeah," he says. "You get things done."

"So do you," Phil says, "just flashier." Stark smiles, that softer one from before that's new, and whatever it is he thinks he's found, whether or not it is the answer— he's going to figure this out.

Phil just has to keep him together until he does.


End file.
